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“Because you stole her apples,” Des replied. Then he looked at Percy. “Weren’t even for him.”
That wasn’t exactly true. “One was for me, one for my pony.”
“Ah, Buck the grade pony. Now that thing was mean.”
“Because you didn’t give him apples,” Albie replied with a grin.
Des smiled fondly and let out a sigh. “Well, we should be going.”
“Oh,” Percy said, taking his plate and reaching for Albie’s. “Let me clean up.”
Albie stopped him. “Leave it. I’ll take care of it. It’s...” he steeled himself but went with honesty. “It gives me something to do. You guys go on. Breakfast at six.”
They stood up and put their coats on as Albie began clearing away. He didn’t miss the way Percy stopped at the door for a beat, watching him, before Des ushered him along.
He spent the next hour or so cleaning up, taking his time, because keeping busy beat acknowledging the silence. The hole in his world where his father had once been.
He’d have sat by the fire and filled in his ledgers, which Albie had yet to look at.
Now that he’d been to town, signed the deeds, and made everything official, there was no putting it off.
But not tonight.
He put more wood on the fire, got himself ready for bed, and blew out the lantern.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling in his quiet house. And for the first night in over a week, his thoughts didn’t drift to his father or to the funeral. Or to the men who’d abandoned him when he’d needed them most.
He could recall the words they’d said, feeling the anger burn behind his ribs just as hot as the moment they’d said it.
But tonight, as the storm blew and rains fell, as he sank into sleep, he thought of all he had to do tomorrow, and he reminded himself he’d need to cook enough breakfast for four people, not three.
And then his mind wandered to Percy. To how hard he’d worked all afternoon. To how his nose was pink with the cold and what it felt like to undress him and help him into the bigger coat. To those blue eyes. And as sleep claimed him, a certain smile and pale skin with flushed cheeks lingered at the edges of his mind.
Chapter Six
When Albie had said he hoped Percy liked snoring, he wasn’t kidding. Both Des and Robert snored so loud it was like he had competing logging teams at either end of the room.
Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much.
But the bed was warm and dry in spite of the rain outside, and Percy had a good feeling about his job here. Both Des and Robert were decent fellows. He recalled what those two gossiping men in town had said about the two men who’d stayed with Albie. A cripple and a drunk.
Well, yes, Des had a pronounced limp but he wasn’t crippled, and Robert never touched a drop all night. He drank water with dinner and made tea over the fire before bed.
Proof, for Percy, that those men in town had no clue about the truth.
And sure, what Albie lacked in age and experience, he made up for with grit and determination. He had a fire under him to prove his worth, and Percy liked that about him.
Percy liked a lot of things about Albie...
The way he’d fitted his coat to him and squeezed his hand to feel how cold he was. How warm his touch had been.
And that blasted smile.
Visions of which plagued his mind while Des and Robert snored the night away. Or maybe he’d have slept some if he hadn’t been thinking so hard about Albie...
Percy was up before the sun. No point in lying in bed when there was work to be done. He slipped his boots on as quietly as he could, pulled his hat down, shrugged into Albie’s warm coat, and went outside.
It had rained all right.
